THE MEDIA OF WAR: WHO FIRES THE FIRST SHOT?

Is the wartime media apparatus something that suddenly emerges when the first shots are fired, or has it always been there, evolving subtly, only to fully reveal itself when conflict erupts? In the Indian context, especially during military or geopolitical tensions, the media doesn’t just report the war—it becomes an active participant in the theatre of conflict. The transformation is so seamless that many fail to recognise when the boundary between journalism and jingoism disappears.

Indian electronic media, in its contemporary form, appears to have developed a unique identity—loud, relentless, and often unapologetically nationalistic. One wonders whether it draws inspiration from any credible global role models. Channels like the BBC, Al Jazeera, or even CNN, despite their flaws, still strive to maintain some journalistic decorum in conflict coverage. In contrast, much of Indian television news has embraced an almost theatrical hyper-nationalism.

Then comes the new entrant in this war ecosystem—social media. Initially celebrated as a tool for democratising information and amplifying unheard voices, it has morphed into something far more complex and sinister. Social media is no longer the innocent digital town square. It is a curated battlefield, one where anonymous accounts, political fanatics, and coordinated bot networks wage psychological warfare. Once seen as the voice of the people, it now often operates as a weaponised echo chamber.
Had these media platforms existed during India’s independence struggle, history might have taken a very different shape. Would Mahatma Gandhi’s message of non-violence and civil disobedience have trended—or been drowned out by digital mobs labelling it anti-national?

Fast forward to the present: a ceasefire agreement has been in place for several days, but there is no ceasefire in our media. News studios continue to conduct war games, long after the guns have fallen silent. One must ask—who calls a truce in the media war? The recent Indo-Pak conflict was a telling case study. In the name of patriotism, journalism was sacrificed. Television studios transformed into war rooms. Anchors shouted over panellists. Reports of enemy casualties were broadcast without verification. Terms like ‘revenge,’ ‘annihilation,’ and ‘final blow’ dominated prime-time discourse. The idea of journalism as the fourth pillar of democracy was reduced to a punchline.
Debates, which should have brought diverse perspectives to the fore, turned into echo chambers of aggressive patriotism. Any attempt to insert nuance or factual correction was instantly labelled anti-national. Verified information gave way to viral misinformation. Primetime became a theatre of jingoism.

Social media, too, mirrored this descent. The widow of a martyr from the Pulwama terror attack became the target of vile online abuse, simply for expressing a personal viewpoint. When India’s Foreign Secretary, Vikram Misri, issued a measured statement on the ceasefire, he was subjected to a coordinated campaign of online trolling. No legal action followed. In today’s digital landscape, troll armies appear more sovereign than governments.

What was once envisioned as a space for dialogue has become a battlefield for silencing dissent. The anonymity and reach of digital platforms have enabled the rise of virtual vigilantes. The cost? A deeply polarised society where opinion is mistaken for fact, and noise for news. The legendary linguist and political commentator Noam Chomsky long ago warned us about the ‘manufacture of consent’—the media’s role in shaping public opinion to align with powerful interests. Today, we face a more dangerous iteration: the manufacture of misinformation. Through cleverly packaged half-truths, selective outrage, and unverified content, the media doesn’t just inform—it manipulates.

In the aftermath of the ceasefire, there was little sign of reflection or remorse in mainstream media. Instead, the same worn-out scripts continued. One might ask whether the media has lost the plot—or deliberately chosen a new one, more suited to TRP charts than truth charts.

So where do we go from here? To restore credibility and integrity in journalism, structural reform is no longer optional—it is urgent. India needs a robust, independent media regulatory framework with real authority to penalise the deliberate spread of misinformation. Media houses and digital platforms must be held accountable. Technological solutions can be part of this transformation. AI-powered fact-checking tools can help filter out false narratives before they go viral. Platforms must be required to implement transparent content moderation policies. Furthermore, a statutory ombudsman or public complaints council for media can help address grievances swiftly and fairly.

However, even the best laws and technologies will fail without public demand for better journalism. Viewers must reject spectacle for substance. Audiences must hold media accountable—not just on social media, but through consumer choices, complaints, and civic pressure. Ultimately, we must ask ourselves, is this the new normal? Is the fusion of media sensationalism and digital mob rule here to stay? Or can we still salvage a media landscape that serves democracy rather than distorting it?
The answer lies not just in studios or servers—but in every citizen’s refusal to be manipulated. Until then, the war may be over on the borders, but the battle for the soul of journalism rages on.